


Bend, Don't Break

by Amaria_Anna_D



Category: Daredevil (TV), Punisher (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Service Animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2018-11-04 21:45:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10999611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amaria_Anna_D/pseuds/Amaria_Anna_D
Summary: Frank Castle is a dog trainer who specializes in turning rescue dogs into service animals. On the surface, things are going well, but there a million tiny cracks beneath that are threatening to tear him to shreds if he's not careful. The one thing in his life that makes him feel alive anymore is Matt Murdock--the lawyer he met recently and is falling head first in love with.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yennefer_of_hells_kitchen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yennefer_of_hells_kitchen/gifts).



> This story is a prompt fill for Yennefer_of_hells_kitchen from the Fratt House Giveaway. Dear, I really hope I do this prompt justice and that you are happy with it. Thank you for letting me bring this to life. Also, a HUGE thank you to Edourado for beta'ing this for me.

 

Part 1

Frank woke up in a shit mood, and four hours later, things hadn't improved. It had all started with an early morning storm that about shook the windows out of their frames. The crashing thunder had cut his sleep short and given him one hell of a headache. To make matters worse, Frank forgot to pick up coffee the day before, leaving him at the mercy of the lines at the coffee shop a few doors down. He'd briefly contemplated saying “fuck it” and making due without just for the sake of unlocking the doors on time, but even he didn't want to deal with himself with no caffeine. In the end, he was nearly twenty minutes late opening up. Thankfully, he didn't have any appointments that early. Still, it annoyed the fuck out of him that he was late. Marines weren't late… ever.

The only bright spot of his morning were the two pit bulls flanking his office chair. The gray one on his left with a scar just above his ear was Frank's dog, Max, and the brindle mixed-breed to his right was a board-and-train named Sasha. Both of them had been unendingly patient as he bitched and moaned aloud at being up when he didn't want to be and again over the coffee incident. Max had even taken it upon himself to nuzzle the back of Frank's hand every time a peal of thunder crossed the sky while Sasha curled up on his feet and looked up at him with sympathetic brown eyes. Far from the stereotypeof the cowering or overly aggressive pit rescues, both dogs were intuitive and loving. They'd also both been on death-row when Frank found them. Max had been rescued from a fighting ring and nearly deemed too dangerous to be saved by the high kill shelter he'd landed in. That was four years ago, and he'd barely left Frank's side since. If not for a weak hip, Max would have been paired off as a service dog, like Sasha and most of the dogs Frank took in were destined to be. Sasha was ending her time with Frank soon and would be an amazing PTSD dog for a deserving vet.

Both dogs lifted their heads and began wagging their tails as the bell rang on the front door. Frank would have gotten up to see who was coming in, but a ball of black and tan fur came racing into the room to say “hello.” Even in his current mood, Frank couldn't help grinning as the young shepherd immediately began sniffing and licking Sasha's face. The newcomer gave the human in the room a cursory sniff and earned himself ear scratches.

“G'morning, Montana,” he murmured.

A moment later a young man in a wheelchair pushed himself into the room wearing a tight black shirt with the company logo and the words “Frank Castle's Canine Rehabilitation” emblazoned across his chest.

“Morning, boss,” he said as he plucked a brown paper bag from his lap and set it on the desk. “Stopped at Rizzolli's on the way in.”

“Think you could get that shirt any tighter, Evan?” Frank huffed. “I think I have some stashed in the back that are in actual adult sizes.”

“I have better luck with the ladies when I get them to look at my arms instead of my legs,” Evan said with a wide grin and a sweeping gesture to where his legs ended mid-thigh in his jeans.

Frank rolled his eyes as he pulled an eclair from the bag. “Anything that takes the attention away from that ugly mug of yours, I guess.”

Evan's grin widened. “Bought two of those for you.”

“Fuck,” the older man muttered, halting the pastry's trip to his mouth. “What do you want?”

“Remember I told you about that lawyer who called, that needed an expert to give testimony about a therapy dog accused of biting its owner's neighbor?”

With a heavy sigh, Frank closed his eyes and tried not to take the kid's head off with his building temper. “I told you to send him to Casey over at Midtown Training.”

“I did... Casey sent him back to us, and you know what will happen if the neighbor gets his way with this whole thing...” Evan gave Frank a grave look. “I would gladly testify if I could for this, but you know two years does not an expert make.”

“Fine,” Frank grumbled. “When's he comin' in?”

Evan looked at his watch a bit sheepishly. “About two hours. He said he'd try to be here around eleven-thirty. It was your only open slot between training sessions today.”

“Got his number?” Frank asked, the wheels in his head turning towards a fitting revenge. “I'm not giving up my lunch break or Max and Sasha's walk. You're gonna take my noon appointment and I'll head straight over the lawyer's office instead.”

Evan grimaced. “Yournoon is Mrs. Lin, isn't it?”

Frank gave a vicious smile and nodded.

The seventy-something year old woman was the company's biggest problem child. Not only did she never take any of the trainers' advice or guidance beyond their front door, but she was notorious for blaming her two whippets horrible behavior on the trainers. Frank was about the only person she even half listened to, and it was a safe bet that the entire session with Evan would be spent with him trying to dispel somecrack pot idea the elderly woman read online. Feeling at least somewhat vindicated, Frank called the lawyer's office and made the adjustment to their meeting time.

Thankfully, the rest of the morning went well enough. Frank was able to shake off most of his dark clouds a few minutes into working with his first clients for the day—a young school teacher and her boxer. It was the first session with the pair, and Frank was moderately pleased with their progress,even if he did have to explain the many dangers of using a retractable leash with a regular collar on a dog who loved to pull. He had some harnesses and _real_ leashes for sale in his retail area that would probably save both dog and owner from a real injury. He was just glad the owner was smart enough to invest in their safety. By the end of the session, the pup managed some basic commands and the owner was beginning to learn how to hold a leash correctly. If their progress continued over their next few sessions, Frank would more than likely hand them off to one of his other trainers.

Around lunch time, Frank put blue service animal vests on both Max and Sasha before heading out the door. Despite not being an actual therapy dog, Frank had found that training went best in the early stages if he had Max along to model the behavior that the trainee was expected to copy. True to form, Max's carriage and body language transformed from lazy pooch to working dog instantly, and Sasha took his example to heart. He took the dogs on his usual loop around the block and to the small tree that Max liked best. Giving the “park” command, he waited for both dogs to do their business and cleaned up the evidence. Sasha could still be a bit finicky about not wanting to do her thing on command, but she was going a bit faster every day and that was at least something. Once that was out of the way, he walked in the general direction of the law offices' address.

The instant Frank opened the door to the deli he'd picked, at least a dozen eyes were suddenly on him. He was used to the attention. Most of the people gave him and the dogs a quick curious look before going about their business, but a few kept gaping like fucking cod fish. Though therapy and support dogs were becoming more common, a good many people couldn't seem to get used to the idea that dogs could do more than lead the blind. He could practically hear the unvoiced question in their eyes: “what's wrong with you?” It was the kind of look that steered more than a few able-bodied PTSD suffers away from getting a dog. They didn't want to see that kind of judgment directed their way. Frank—who was both abled and PTSD-free— couldn’t give less of a shitabout the judgment of the masses. There was only one type of asshole who really bothered him while he was out with the dogs, and of course being the way his day was going, it seemed one of said assholes was in front of him in line.

A thin man in a business suit was glaring at Frank and the dogs for all he was worth. Changing his stance to his don't-fuck-with-me-I'm-a-Marine mode, Frank gave the asshole a measured look that would have sent a smarter man pissing his pants and running for cover. This guy was obviously not that bright.

“You can't have those dogs in here,” the man spat.

“Legally, these dogs are welcome anywhere open to the public,” Frank said evenly.

“Those are pit bulls. They're not service dogs!” the fucker spat. “I've seen documentaries on what those dogs can do.”

Rage boiled beneath Frank's skin. He was so angry that his hands were actually sweating, but on the surface, he was calm and cool.

“That so? I suppose the nine years I have training animals both for veterans and other types of therapy doesn't mean shit next to the documentary some asshole probably put together to help pass some fucked up breed ban?”

The man swallowed hard. “I'm calling the police if you don't take those animals out of here. You're endangering everyone here.”

“Buddy, the only danger you are in isn't from the dogs. It's from me,” Frank warned.

Before the asshole in the suit could open his mouth, an old man leaning on a cane approached. He was wearing enough cologne that it made Frank's nostrils hurt, but he was also wearing a hat that proudly displayed his WWII service. Of the two, the hat was more important. The old man gave the asshole a hard look. “Stan, how long you been comin' to my place?”

Asshole blinked quickly. “My whole life, Sal. Why?”

“And your whole life you've been a dickhead,” the old man—Sal said flatly. “Him and the dogs are welcome anytime. It's your sorry ass that's not welcome in my place. Get the hell out before _I_ call the cops.”

Sputtering and red-faced, the asshole stormed out of the deli. Frank hadn't been aware that they'd been making a scene until the rest of the deli erupted in applause at the asshole's departure. Frank startled a bit at the unexpected noise, but the dogs stayed calm on either side of him. Max even leaned into Frank's side in a reassuring gesture followed a second later by Sasha. It was an instinctual calming mechanism—one that would have greatly reduced Frank's stress if he actually had PTSD, which he didn't.

Sal held out his hand to Frank. “Sorry you had to deal with that kind of thing in my place.”

“Not your fault, sir,” Frank replied, taking the wrinkled hand offered to him. “I'm sorry I cost you business.”

“Nah, don't worry about that. I've been looking for a way to get rid of that pain in the ass for forty years. His father was a dickhead, too, but he was kind enough to kick up his toes years ago,” Sal said with a grin. He nodded to a young man behind the counter. “Tell my grandson what you want. Your lunch is on the house today, and I'll grill up a plain chicken breast for your pups if they're allowed.”

Frank would have argued, but he spotted the old-school, faded Marine Corps. logo tattoo on Sal's forearm. “Thank you, sir. It's unnecessary but appreciated. And I'm sure Sasha and Max will appreciate that chicken, too.”

The Italian sub he got that day turned out to be one of the best that Frank had ever had, and he made a mental note to come back soon. He was always looking for new places to bring his dogs while he was training them, and it seemed that Sal and his deli were as welcoming as they came. Still, even though he had a great sandwich in front of him, there was something deep in Frank's gut that he couldn't seem to shake. It wasn't just a bad mood or even the lingering anger from dealing with the asshole. There was a nervous edge to his gut that he couldn't banish, and the harder he tried the worse it got. Turning her face from the small plate of chicken before her, Sasha laid her head in his lap and began to nuzzle his arm lightly. Frank focused on the silky texture of her ears as he stroked them, and his tension began to ebb.

As it turned out, the law offices of Neslon and Murdock were less than a block away from Sal's Deli. The old brownstone didn't look like much, and Frank almost missed the small sign on the brick entrance. Aside from his divorce, Frank had never been inside of a lawyer's office before. The last place he'd been in had been one of those glass and steel nightmares. This felt less pretentious and didn't set his hackles up the way he'd been expecting. Not sure what the protocol was for this kind of office, Frank knocked on the door frame as he stuck his head inside.

“Hello?” a male voice called from inside.

“Uh, name's Frank Castle,” he said, inching further inside. “I'm here to meet with Mr. Murdock.”

A young man with dark hair appeared in the minuscule lobby area from one of the tiny offices on the side. “That would be me,” he said with a friendly smile. “Thank you so much for meeting me.”

“Not a problem,” Frank murmured, holding out his hand.

He studied the man for a brief moment. Murdock was a hell of a lot younger than Frank was expecting—not to mention a hell of a lot better looking. Frank had been picturing a middle-aged man with a paunch and thinning hair, but the man in front of him had a full head of dark hair and a toned physique. His jaw was sculpted beneath thick-ish stubble and his lips were full. Frank didn't want to admit how much those lips drew him in. In fact, he was so busy ogling the lawyer that he didn't notice he'd been holding out his hand for a long time. Feeling like a moron and annoyed at being ignored, Frank glowered at the man as he dropped his hand, but Murdock's warm expression didn't change. Frank suddenly noticed that the lawyer's wide hazel eyes didn't exactly land anywhere near his own.

“Can I get you a coffee?” Murdock offered, unaware of Frank's embarrassment. “Our secretary makes the worst coffee in history, but it will keep you awake if you need it.”

Frank snorted. “That's some claim. Can't be much worse than mine, so I'll chance it if you don't mind.”

The lawyer gave a genuine laugh. “Any sugar or cream to protect your stomach lining?”

“Black.”

Frank watched as the blind man moved gingerly to the small kitchenette area. His hands moved easily to the cups and then the coffee pot. It was pretty obvious he'd done this a time or two, and Frank didn't feel any need to fall all over himself to offer up any help. Murdock brought the pot to his nose for a second and made a face. “You're a braver man than I am,” he teased, pouring a cup of the liquid that looked an awful lot like tar.

Moving to the side a bit so both dogs were out of Murdock's path, Frank accepted the mug. “I hope you don't mind, I brought a couple of our dogs along with me. One's in training, and one is practically a trainer in his own right,” he explained.

Flashing a brilliant smile, Murdock chuckled. “I was hoping that wasn't you I smelled, but I wasn't going to judge if it was.”

“Are you implying that my dogs stink, Murdock?” Frank teased. Was he flirting with the lawyer?

One side of those perfect lips quirked up mischievously. “Never!”

“I'll have you know my dogs smell wonderful,” Frank huffed in mock outrage. Fuck, he _was_ flirting. The realization caught him off guard.

“If you say so,” Murdock said smugly. He gestured to the office behind him. “Why don't you have a seat, and we can get down to business?”

Frank took a seat, noting how both dogs took their places out of the way just by his feet. “I'm not really sure how much of a help I can be, but I'll do my best, Mr. Murdock.”

“Call me Matt,” the lawyer said. He reached for a stack of papers. “Do you mind if I record this for my notes?”

“Knock yourself out,” Frank replied.

Matt turned on the recorder. “Frank Castle for the D'Angelo case, May second.” He picked up a pair of red tinted glasses and slid them on as he spoke. Immediately, Frank missed the sight of Matt's hazel eyes, but had to admit that the color of the glasses suited him.

Over the next hour Matt asked Frank dozens of questions regarding his qualification and his experience with dog behavior—pit bulls and pit mixes in particular. Though it was obvious the lawyer was simply trying to get honest answers and gauge how Frank would be on the stand, a few of the questions rankled. The misconceptions about pits and other commonly misunderstood dogs never failed to get under his skin. By the end of the questions, any improvement in Frank's mood had dissolved.

“So you haven't exactly explained the situation I'm supposed to help you with? Wouldn't it help if I actually knew what the hell had happened?” Frank snorted as Matt turned off the recorder.

Matt cocked his head to the side lightly. “I apologize for keeping things vague, but I wanted to get a feel for you before I explained the case. I didn't want to sway any reactions.”

“Here I thought you were wanting to sway me to your side of things for the courtroom,” Frank murmured, feeling a bit stupid to have it put that plainly.

“Not necessarily. To be honest, strongly biased testimony from an expert can actually turn a verdict against you case,” Matt explained with a small shrug. “In this case, you are more there for insurance than anything. The whole thing is he-said, she-said. The neighbor seeking damages and to have the animal put down didn't seek medical treatment for his supposed bite, nor were there any witnesses. He only has an inconclusive picture of a bruise that he claims is from the incident, and another neighbor who claims that he heard the dog in question growl once at the neighbor once during an argument.”

“Sounds like bullshit to me,” Frank grumbled. “Think he has a chance of winning?”

“Things like this aren't always as common sense as they sound. I wish they were,” Matt sighed. “Hopefully, your input here will help. I do appreciate you taking the time out of your schedule to come by.”

It was on the tip of Frank's tongue to say that Matt could repay him with a date, but instead he bit the inside of his cheek. “It's nothing. Especially if it helps keep this woman's therapy dog where he belongs.”

Matt nodded emphatically. “The things that Ringo helps Hannah do on a regular basis are amazing.”

“Mind if I ask you a personal question, then?” Frank probed.

“I'm just not a dog person,” Matt offered with a sheepish grin. “I'm assuming you wanted to know why I don't have a dog.”

“I did.”

“I don't discount how much of a help a guide dog could be at times. I just don't have any experience with dogs in general. I never had the opportunity to have one growing up. And I've gotten along so far without one... It just doesn't sound like something for me,” Matt admitted.

Frank nodded and started stroking Max's head without even thinking. “Well, I don't work with guide dogs specifically, but if you ever want to spend some time around dogs, you are always welcome to drop by. I'm sure Max and Sasha would love to see you again.”

“They would?” Matt questioned with a dark brow shooting above his glasses. “Maybe after this case is settled, I'll come by.”

The rest of the afternoon was a blur. Frank fell back into the swing of his usual training, but every now and again his mind would drift back to Matt. He hadn't exactly asked the guy out on a date, but it was the closest he'd come to it in over eleven years—not since he'd asked Maria out. Maybe it was just his mind's way of subtlety telling him it was time to get laid again. Nearly three years of abstinence hadn't been as brutal as he'd been expecting it would have been, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't noticed the stirrings of his libido waking up now and again. Matt had just been the one to make it almost impossible to ignore. There was something about the lawyer that piqued Frank's interest. Not only was he good looking, but there was a casual sort of charm to the man that had Frank smiling more than he had in a long time.

That evening, Frank cleaned his apartment. He wasn't exactly a slob, but he wasn't one to fuss if a dish got left in the sink for a day or two. The dogs lounged on the couch as Frank swept the floors and dusted off the furniture. It was the kind of stuff he didn't bother with too often unless his kids were coming for the weekend—which they were. He was pretty sure theyweren't exactly looking under the couch for stray dust bunnies, but he always felt like his ex-wife was waiting for him to screw something up. He could practically feel her irritation with him every time she entered his apartment. It was enough to have him stripping his fridge bare and scrubbing it whenever she was going to be dropping Frankie and Lisa off. He was half-way through putting everything back in when his phone rang.

Grimacing when Maria's face popped up on the screen, Frank swiped to answer. “Hey,” he said flatly.

“Hey yourself,” she replied. “I just wanted to let you know that we have a small change to the plans for this weekend.”

“Oh?” Frank leaned back against the counter.

“Lisa's best friend is having a birthday party sleepover, and she really wants to go,” Maria explained. She had that tone of hers that said she'd already made a decision and Frank had better just fall in line.

Feeling the anger building in his gut, Frank tried to keep his cool. “And you told her she could go without even asking me despite the fact that this is _my_ weekend?”

Maria let out an audible sigh from the other end. “Frank, it's not like that. She's an eleven year old girl! Of course she wants to do things with her friends. It wouldn't matter who's weekend it was. And what was I supposed to do? Tell her that she couldn't go to this thing she's been begging to go to for weeks?”

“I dunno, Maria... Maybe call me and let me know about it? Ask me? Would that have been too fucking hard?” By now, Frank was pacing in his small kitchen like a caged animal.

“Why? So you could make her feel bad about wanting to be a normal kid?”

“You think that's what I'd do?”

“I think you're harder on our kids than you need to be. I think you make them feel like shit without even realizing you do it,” she said bitterly. “I didn't call to argue.”

“Yeah. You called to tell me about somethin' you went ahead and did without askin' me. Now if I say 'no,' I'm the asshole. Thanks for lettin' me know,” he muttered.

Maria let out a dry laugh. “You're fucking welcome. You know, it was my mistake for thinking that I could have an adult parenting discussion with you anymore.”

The other end went dead without so much as another word, and Frank had to stop himself from throwing the phone across the room. Instead he slammed the fridge door as hard as he could. When it popped back, he did it again and punched the door, leaving a fist sized dent. He probably would have done it again, but Max was suddenly at his size, licking his palm and staring up at him with soulful eyes. Frank crouched down and sat on his kitchen floor as he stroked Max's ears. Before long, Sasha was beside him too.

  
  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  



	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

The week after interviewing Frank for the D'Angelo case flew by Matt. It was the first time since opening the firm that Matt and Foggy both had completely full caseloads. Even if he had wanted to make an excuse to see Frank again—which he did, desperately—he didn't have much time to spare. Both partners were working late into the evenings and taking files home with them for good measure. Just when Matt was stretched so thin he thought he might snap, he got a phone call from the opposing lawyer in the D'Angelo case. His client was dropping the suit. In addition to being elated that his Ms. D'Angelo was no longer in danger of being separated from Ringo, Matt was finally able to breathe a bit easier.

When he announced the happy news to Foggy and Karen, Karen immediately offered to call Frank to let him know they wouldn't need him for the trial. “Unless,” she added slyly, “you'd rather do it, Matt.”

Foggy and Karen had been out to lunch for the meeting, but they'd come back just in time to see Frank leaving and catch Matt looking—as Karen put it—like the cat that ate the canary. Matt couldn't deny that he found himself attracted to the dog trainer. Between that deep voice and Frank's matter-of-fact attitude, Matt had to admit he was more than a little interested in seeing the other man again. Despite the ribbing it would earn him at the office, Matt wasn't about to let an opportunity slip by.

“I wouldn't mind stopping by his shop anyway,” Matt agreed, trying to keep his expression neutral. “He did offer to let me meet some of his dogs.”

“This coming from Mister-I'm-not-a-dog-person himself,” Foggy chuckled.

“Maybe it's time for me to re-think my position,” Matt said with a shrug.

Karen giggled. “I am guessing Mr. Castle can get people to re-think a lot of things.”

The teasing continued between clients and stacks of paperwork all day. Truth be told, Matt didn't mind all that much. The three of them had fallen into an easy camaraderie from the time Karen came to work with them. Matt hadn't felt as at ease with anyone as he did Karen and Foggy since his father died when he was a kid. He almost imagined this is what it would be like to have siblings.The pair even made cat-calls at him as Matt made his way out the door a little early to go see Frank.

Thankfully, Matt knew almost exactly where Frank's business was. The building had once been a specialty sporting goods store. He could still remember going there as a kid with his dad. The place was part of a fading visual he had of Hell's Kitchen. Though, logically he knew many if not most of the businesses that had been there twenty years ago were long gone, he still pictured the neighborhood exactly as it had been when he was nine. It was one of the advantages of still living in his the place he grew up, and it helped him navigate independently.

Independent navigation was actually the one reason that Matt had considered getting a dog at one point. The topic had been brought up while he was still at St. Agnes. With Matt going out on his own for college, some of the nuns felt that perhaps it was something Matt should look into—which he did. He found as much information as he could online and through the local Lighthouse for the Blind. He took a good long while to stack up the pros and cons before coming to the conclusion that a dog wasn't for him. Not that he'd been one-hundred percent lying when he'd said his inexperience with dogs was why he had forgone the guide dog, but it was more the commitment and the responsibility to an animal at the same time he'd been looking forward to cutting loose a bit.

“Hello,” a pleasant male voice greeted him. “Welcome to Castle's Canine Rehab. Something I can help you with?”

Matt followed the voice until his cane made contact with a counter. “I'm here to see Frank Castle. My name's Matt Murdock.”

“You're the lawyer. I'm Evan. I was talking to your secretary the other day when you guys were looking for somebody to testify,” he explained. “Frank is with a client for another few minutes. Something I can help you with?”

“No. I was just dropping by to let Frank know that the case was dropped,” Matt replied, trying to not be too disappointed.

“He'll be done in about ten minutes if you want to wait,” Evan offered.

Matt's knee-jerk reaction was to say “no.” He suddenly felt a little stupid for stopping by rather than calling. The reply was on the tip of his tongue, but he decided to throw caution to the wind and stay. What was the worst that could happen? That he could have been wrong about Frank flirting with him, and he would be turned down by someone he'd never have to see again.

“Okay,” Matt agreed.

“There's an extra chair behind the counter here if you don't mind having to say hello to a nosy German Shepherd,” Evan volunteered. As if on cue, there was a soft whine behind the counter. Evan gave a laugh. “See? He doesn't understand how anyone can possibly ignore him. He's kind of a vain guy like that.”

Matt chuckled. “Well, I don't mind saying 'hi.”

“Two steps to the left and there is a gate. Then another four steps or so dead ahead to an office chair,” Evan directed. It was rare to meet someone who was so non-chalant about offering assistance without going overboard.

Just as Evan predicted, the second Matt sat down, a wet nose was pushed up against the back of his hand. With little else to do, Matt gave the animal a small pet. The second that was over, he put his hand back in his lap only to have the dog nudging at his hand for more.

“Vain and greedy,” Matt murmured with a grin as he continued to stroke the dog’s head. “What's his name?”

“Montana. And I think they missed the chance to put “attention whore extraordinaire” along with the rest of that fancy title they put on his breed papers,” Evan answered with a snigger as the shepherd continued to demand pets from Matt.

Matt had to smile at the dog’s persistence. “Is he yours?”

“We've been together now for three years. Getting a dog was the best thing I did after being discharged,” Evan added. “He's been trained to open doors, pick things off the floor for me, and even to help steady me if I need to get back in the chair for any reason.”

“Didn't realize you were in a wheelchair,” Matt confessed. Suddenly, Evan's ease with Matt's own disability makes sense. “And I'll admit, other than acting as guide dogs and therapy animals for people with PTSD, I didn't think too much on dogs doing more than that.”

Evan gave a flat snort. “You're far from alone on that. God knows, I didn't know either before losing my legs. When my mom first heard of programs like this, she was just hoping for help with my ptsd symptoms—which back then were way worse. But when we came here and saw just what Frank and the other trainers were able to teach these dogs to do...well, it was a bit of a game changer. Heck, I went from thinking I would never be able to find a job I love to finding out I am pretty damn good at training dogs and helping people in the process.”

“That's awesome.” Matt smiled. “Karen told me that you were pretty diligent about helping us find an expert even if it wasn't Frank. We really appreciate that.”

“So... speaking of your secretary...” Evan drawled.

Matt couldn't stop himself from laughing. “I have no idea if she's single,” he said. “I am pretty sure she keeps that to herself just so my law partner won't try to give any prospective othersthe shovel talk.”

Before Evan could reply, Matt heard a door open behind them. “Matt,” Frank said, sounding a bit stunned. “Wasn't expecting to see you here.”

“Uh... I just stopped by to let you know that the suit was dropped. You're off the hook for needing to testify,” Matt rambled.

“Oh,” Frank intoned. “Here I was thinkin' you were visiting Max and Sasha.”

Matt's cheeks felt warm. “Well, that is the other reason I came.”

Evan cleared his throat beside Matt. “I think I'm gonna take Montana for a walk.”

“Just be back in time for your next appointment,” Frank said dryly.

Once they were alone, Matt stood and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I hope I didn't pick a bad time to drop by. I can leave if...”

“It's not a bad time,” Frank cut him off. “Wasn't expectin' you, but I didn't say I minded. Actually, I just had my last client for the day.”

“So it isn't just Max and Sasha who wanted to see me again,” Matt said coyly.

Frank laughed. “Picked up on that did you, Red?”

“Red?”

“I like the way those glasses look on you,” Frank admitted.

The corner of Matt's mouth inched up. “Red's always been my favorite color.”

“Wanna come back and officially meet the dogs?” Frank asked a bit too suddenly.

Matt had a feeling they had been edging territory that was leading into the flirtatious side of things. It didn’t take a genius level I.Q. or even a working set of eyes to see that Frank was a bit prickly around the edges. Nor was Matt oblivious to the redirect, but he wasn't going to point it out either. Instead he held out his left hand. “Lead the way.”

When they went through the door, his nose was immediately assaulted with the heavy scent of dogs. He tried not to crinkle his nose too much at the smell as he took a few tentative steps into the space. The smell of dog was MUCH stronger in the back of the building than it had been in the front. Matt could even smell urine half covered up by disinfectants. All in all, it was a not so pleasant reminder that cleaning up after an animalwas a good portion of the reason he'd passed on a guide dog.

“One of the dogs that just left has a bad habit of pissing all over the place when she's nervous. Sorry about the smell,” Frank grumbled.

“Is that something you can fix?” Matt asked, only half caring about the answer.

“Sometimes. Other times, it's just something you have to live with if you want to keep the dog,” Frank replied. “I'm assuming the idea of cleaning up piss every time company comes doesn't appeal to you.”

“Not so much.”

“Will it bother you if I let Sasha and Max out of the kennels? They don't jump but they will come sniff you,” Frank said. Matt imagined that the calm, collected tone he was using now was the same way he spoke to clients, and Matt wasn't sure how he felt about that. On one hand, talking about the dogs was safe, but on the other, he had come to get to know Frank, not his canine companions.

“I'm not afraid of dogs,” Matt answered stiffly. Why did people always assume that not being a dog person equated to being afraid of dogs?

“Didn't say you were, but some people don't take kindly to a dog in their space, even if it is a friendly one.”

Frank stepped away and a moment later, two sets of paws were racing towards him. The first dog wasn't shy about putting its nose against Matt’s thigh to get a big sniff. While the second was more timid, it didn't seem to take exception to having a stranger around either. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, but much like Montana in the waiting area, he wasn't exactly sure what to do beyond scratch their heads. “They’re both pit bulls?” Matt asked as one of the dogs leaned into his legs and rolled over.

“Max, the big guy giving you his belly is full pit bull, and Sasha, the smaller one is a mix,” the trainer answered. “They were both destined to be put down before being taken in by a friend of mine who runs a pit rescue. He gives me a call he thinks any of the animals he’s fostering have potential to be more than a house pet.”

“How did you decided to start working with dogs?” Matt asked.

“Kinda fell into it. When I was still on a tour in the sandbox my ex-wife got it into her head that the kids should have a dog. The damn fur ball was a thirty pound pain in my ass. Maria hired some fruitcake trainer who only believes in positive reinforcement training, and the fucking dog only got worse. I was about ready to drop the dog off at the pound, but then I met a former MP dog trainer who offered to work with him a bit. Once I started working with our dog after that, things just fell into place. When I retired, I went to work for John for a couple of years then branched out to this place four years ago,” Frank said with obvious pride in his voice. “The training and boarding for average pet owners pays the bills, but I've been able take on quite a few dogs to pair with veterans on the side. It's not a bad gig.”

Matt smiled. “Sounds to me like you really love it.”

“I do,” Frank agreed. “How about you? You love your job, Red?”

“Probably more than I should,” Matt admitted, wiping dog slobber off the back of his hand on his pant leg. “My partner and I started our firm with the goal of helping other people, not just ourselves the way a lot of the bigger firms do. There are times it's frustrating, and the pay isn't always what it could be, but I would give it up for the world.”

Frank let out a hearty laugh. “So you’re another poor sap trying to save the world, eh?”

Matt opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Evan. “Hey boss, mind wrapping it up? Shelly and Peanut are here for their lesson.”

“Sure thing. Let me get these two knuckle-heads in their kennels and you’re all good,” Frank called back.

Fighting the wave of disappointment building in his gut, Matt stood. “I suppose I should let you guys get back to work.”

“I’m done for the day, actually,” Frank said as there was a clicking sound of the dogs being shut into their kennels. “I was going to grab a bite to eat before I head home. Any chance I can interest you in coming along?”

“That’d be great.” Matt’s cheeks instantly felt a bit warm. He could barely stop himself from laughing when he thought of all the harassment scoring a date with a former character witness would earn him at the office, but he was pretty sure that Frank would be worth it.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

It didn’t take long for Frank to realize that Matt Murdock was something damn special. He was one of those rare people who had been through serious shit and came out of it both wiser for it and, somehow, still optimistic. Frank couldn’t lay claim to either trait. But Matt—who had every right to have said fuck it and laid down numerous times in his life—had this seemingly endless spark in him that pushed him on to fix the world around him as best he could. Where most people would have taken a lucrative career at  a big firm and raked in the dough, Matt had passed so that he could do as much pro-bono work as he did paid. When most people would have let bitterness rule their lives, Matt approached things with a wry sense of humor and fuck ton of determination. Truth was, Frank was falling hard.

A bit over a month into their relationship, they went to a little Indian place that looked like an Eastern mix of Mardi Gras and a brothel. The walls were covered with brightly colored patterns and knick-knacks and hundreds of chili pepper lights hung from the ceiling. To Frank’s eyes the restaurant looked cramped and gaudy, but the instant Matt closed his eyes and breathed in the scent with that serene look on his face, he stopped giving a shit what the place looked like.

“Looks like you died and went to heaven,” Frank teased, not taking his eyes from Matt’s handsome face.

Matt grinned. “Heaven is dipping flat bread into the best curry in New York.”

“If you say so, Red.”

“We could have gone somewhere else,” Matt sighed, some of his enthusiasm dying off.

“And miss you having your moment with your food? Not a chance.” Frank reached across the table and laced his fingers through Matt’s, bringing back the brightness to his smile.

“Max and Sasha don’t mind being left at home?”

“Their not my service dogs so it’s not like I need to bring them everywhere.”

Frank silently needled at the thought that maybe Matt thought he actually needed a service animal. While there was no shame in having PTSD or in having a disability, there  _ was _ shame in letting someone think you had something wrong with you when there wasn’t. He could recall with crystal clarity the moment when he realized that sometimes people did just that. He’d been talking to one of his clients about her vacation, and she admitted that she’d actually lied and told the airline that her miniature Australian shepherd was an anxiety support dog. Frank had been so horrified at how openly she talked about it that the only thing he could manage to tell her was to get the fuck out of his shop. It hadn’t been the first time he’d heard of something like that, but it had been the first time someone he knew actually did it. The thought of it was sickening. There were literally thousands of people who relied on service animals every day in America, but a few privileged assholes were making things harder for those that did. Frank refused to be one of those dickheads.

Before changing the subject, Frank took a long drink of water. “So are you still good to meet the kids next weekend?”

Matt smiled and nodded. “I’d love to, but only if you’re ready for it. I know this isn’t a small thing for you.”

“I’m ready, Red,” Frank assured him. He reached across the table to wind his fingers between Matt’s. “I think it’s a safe bet that this thing is more than just a casual hook up by now. If we’re going to be together, the kids have to know you exist sooner or later. Plus, it’s not like Maria hasn’t been dating for most of the time we’ve been apart, too. They know their mom and I aren’t getting back together.”

The smile on Matt’s face was still uncertain, but he squeezed Frank’s fingers anyway. “Then I’m ready to meet them.”

After dinner, Frank and Matt swung by Frank’s place to take the dogs on a short walk. Matt had been a bit reluctant to to take Sasha’s leash the first time they’d done it, but now he immediately reached for the leash and harness that hung by Frank’s door the second they walked in. The change brought a smile to Frank’s lips. More than anything, he wanted to say something about it, but Matt had made his stance clear on dog ownership, and Frank respected that. Still, he couldn’t stop the warm feeling that spread through him as he and Matt walked down the street arm in arm, each holding the leash to one of his dogs. Every now and again, Frank would sneak a glance at Matt as they walked. It was the first time in a very long time that Frank felt like his world was pretty close to fucking perfect.

Once the dogs did their business, they turned back towards Frank’s apartment. Matt gave him a sly smile. “Coming back to my place?” he asked with just a tinge of pink in his cheeks. God, he was so damn perfect when he blushed like that.

“We could stay at my place,” Frank suggested with a chuckle.

The first time they’d gotten a bit frisky on Frank’s couch, Max had decided to kill the moment by shoving his cold nose directly between Matt’s ass cheeks as he’d started taking off his pants. Since then, the lawyer had adamantly refused to hook up with two canine spectators present. He even went as far as to say that it was weird to him that the dogs would be listening after Frank suggested closing them out of the bedroom. The whole thing was adorable to Frank.

“Next time,’ Matt answered, elbowing Frank in the ribs for good measure.

The second the door to Matt’s apartment was closed behind them Frank gave into his need. He pushed Matt against the wall roughly and kissed him so hard he nearly tasted blood. If the deep moan the blind man let out or the way he arched his back so that their hips met were any indication, he didn’t mind the roughness. Nimble fingers wound into Frank’s hair and kept him from breaking the kiss. God, Red was like a fucking drug, and Frank couldn’t get enough. He reached up and began yanking at the god awful tie Matt was still wearing from work. His instincts told him that Matt was still way too dressed.

“Bed,” Matt rasped against Frank’s ear.

The two made an awkward dance across the living room. Their hands, lips, and bodies never broke contact the whole way in. Matt expertly angled Frank so that his knees hit the bed and forced him to fall back. Moving with a grace that still astounded him, Matt straddled his hips and stripped off his shirt before sending it flying across the room. He leaned in and began suckling at the spot just where Frank’s jawline met his ear.

“Christ, Red!” Frank growled. He loved it when Matt got pushy in bed, but right at that moment, he wanted to be inside Matt’s perfect ass. Winning the battle for dominance, Frank pushed Matt down beneath him and breathed against his throat. “I need you.”

With an indistinct mewling sound, Matt rolled on his side and offered himself up. Frank grabbed a handful of Matt’s ass and bit down hard on his shoulder. With his free hand, he groped blindly for the lube and condoms on the night stand while Matt bucked impatiently against him. They both needed this. When they came  together it always felt like two drowning men finding refuge on a lifeboat .

Frank had barely entered his second slickened finger inside Matt’s tight opening when Matt grounded up against him hard. “Fuck me, Frank!” he commanded.

Without needing to be told twice, Frank did what was asked of him. He eased himself inside of Matt, reveling in the feeling of tight heat that surrounded him. He was immediately torn between wanting to savor the moment and needing desperately to fuck Red into those damned silk sheets. The muffled cry that Matt made against the bedding forced his hand, and he couldn’t hold back from beginning to thrust mercilessly with his fingers digging into Matt’s hips. He finished with a roar, falling bonelessly against his lover as Matt shuddered his own release beneath him.

Frank laid on the bed beside Matt trying to force his heart to stop racing. No one had ever left him as breathless as Matt did, and dear Christ, did he love every second of it. When he could finally speak, he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “You’re one damned bossy bottom, Matt Murdock.”

“I know what I want,” Matt said with a smug smile.

Lying on the sheets with his pale skin marked by Frank’s teeth and touch, Matt was easily the most beautiful thing Frank had ever seen. He reached out and ran his fingers over a particularly red spot on Matt’s collarbone. “You’ll tell me if I ever get too rough?” he asked, softly.

“Oh, I’ll let you know.” Matt lifted Frank’s fingers to his lips. He kissed each one before putting Frank’s thumb in his mouth and biting down. “And trust me, I bite back.”

“Don’t I know it,” Frank murmured, lifting Matt’s hand to a raised welt on his chest that was suspiciously the same shape as Matt’s own teeth. They both laughed, and Matt wiggled across the bed until he was laying with his head on Frank’s chest.

Suddenly, Frank was very aware that he wasn’t in danger of falling for Matt; he’d already fallen. The idea of it should be scaring the shit out of him, but it wasn’t. Frank wondered how Matt would react if he said those three words. He was tempted to find out, but decided against it. Instead, he wrapped Red right in his arms and kissed the top of Matt’s dark head. Right now, he just wanted to enjoy how amazing it all felt.

Frank jolted awake with his heart pounding. His eyes darted around the darkened room as he tried to remember where he was as his breath came from his lungs in ragged gasps. Just as he began to convince himself that there was no danger, a hand touched his shoulder. Instinctively, he wrenched his body away and stumbled out of the bed.

“Frank, what's wrong?” the figure still wrapped in covers asked, jarring him into reality.

He was in Matt's bed. He’d fallen asleep with Red pressed up against him.

“Frank?” Matt called again, sounding even more distressed.

Finally getting enough air in his lungs to speak, Frank managed say, “I'm good, Red. Gonna hit the head. Go back to sleep.”

In the bathroom, Frank gripped the counter with both hands and stared at his reflection for a long time. He wanted to shatter the glass in front of him, but managed to hold back. He hated that Matt had seen him like that, and he tried to think of a way to play the whole thing off before the other man could jump to conclusions. Back before the divorce, he'd had one fucking nightmare, and Maria tried to send his ass to therapy. So he had the occasional nightmare... A lot of guys did. That didn't mean anything more than he'd seen some shit, and his brain decided to replay it now and again. It wasn't an every night occurrence. Before heading back to the bedroom, Frank splashed some cold water on his face.

Matt wasn't under the covers anymore when Frank emerged. He was sitting up on the edge of the bed with his elbows resting on his knees. “Sure you're okay?” he asked, as Frank joined him on the mattress.

“Fine.”

“Look if you want to talk about it...”

Frank let out a snort. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Matt kissed the top of Frank’s shoulders and began rubbing small circles between his shoulder blades. “Lie back down with me.”

“I shouldn’t,” Frank protested even as he let himself be led back to his spot on the bed.

Matt didn’t say anything as he wrapped his arm around Frank’s middle. He just kept pressing light kisses along the length of Frank’s neck and into his hair. His free hand wound lightly into Frank’s curls. It was more calming than it should be. Before too long, he felt sleep creeping in around the edges. His first instinct was to fight it, but the more Matt’s fingers and lips worked their magic, the less will he had. The last thought he had before his eyes closed was that he was damned glad he hadn’t said that he loved Matt. He’d have hated to have fucked everything up all over again.

Both men had to work in the morning. Frank was thankful that it at the very least delayed any awkward conversation that he knew was coming. He kissed Matt goodbye and headed back to his place feeling like hell.

He spent the day in an absolute shit mood. Nothing, not even Max or Sasha could pull Frank out of the head space he was in. His first appointment ended up being just frustrating as hell for both him and the dog he was working with, so he called the rest of his clients and rescheduled, shifting a few to his other trainers. It was the first time he’d ever done something like that. Evan had given him one hell of a look over the computer screen as he shuffled things around in the computer, but he’d been smart enough not to mention it.

Once Frank was safely back in his own home, he turned on the TV and flopped on the couch with a beer. He vaguely wondered what the hell to say to Matt when the inevitable call came later that night.  _ “I swear I don’t have PTSD. I just wake up occasionally crying like a little fucking kid.” _ He already knew how that explanation would work out. He’d been through this shit once before. Maria begging him to get help he didn’t need had only made Frank angrier, and the angrier he’d gotten, the worse shit got in that household. The last two years of his marriage had been nothing less than an absolute shit show. He’d rather take a dirt nap than go through that hell again.

Well before Matt was scheduled to get off work, Frank’s cell phone started chirping from its spot on the end table. Frank didn’t want to answer it, but his hand moved of its own accord to pick the fucking thing up. Thankfully, it was Sam Wilson’s face on the screen and not Matt’s.

“Castle here,” Frank murmured into the receiver.

“Frank, you have got to work on your people skills, man,” Sam joked lightly from the other end. His voice sobered just a tad. “I called the office to see what you thought of the candidate I sent you yesterday, but Evan said you’d already left. Everything okay?”

“Just fine,” Frank lied. He sat up on the couch and frowned. “I did look at your email. I’d meant to reply this morning, but things got… complicated. Sorry about that.”

“No worries. Mind going over it now? I’d like to give this guy a call before the end of the day if I can,” Sam said with his usual calm.

Sam had been Frank’s VA contact since he’d started training service dogs. So far, they’d placed fifteen dogs with vets who desperately needed everything from emotional support to physical service. The thing that made them a good team was that Sam was every bit as dedicated to the program as Frank was. He worked tirelessly to get the men and women that came through his doors every bit of help they needed. While he might occasionally bitch or rant about the lack of help the government chipped in to things, not once had Frank ever heard Sam complain for his own sake. He was one of the few people that Frank respected pretty much unconditionally. And honestly, if Sam thought the guy was going to be a good fit for a service dog then he probably was, but they went over the file nonetheless.

Frank pulled the information up on his tablet as they talked and skimmed the details. James Barnes was a twenty-eight year old arm amputee with severe PTSD and anxiety. He’d been working with both Sam and a clinical psychiatrist for nearly two years as well as being on his meds for the whole time. From what Frank could see in the file, he had a good support system in his husband and family and seemed committed towards getting his life back. All in all, Frank agreed that he was a good candidate. By the time the call ended, Frank and Sam were getting ready to start the preliminary paperwork to send to Barnes.

Almost as soon as Frank hung up with Sam, Matt’s face and number appeared on his phone. With a heavy sigh, he swiped to reject the call. It was a move that was going to bite him in the ass, but he honestly didn’t think he could take the talk they were about to have right then.  


	4. Chapter 4

“And that’s why I’ve decided to give up law and make my money on the pole...”

“Huh?” Matt said, snapping out of his stupor. He’d been aware Foggy was talking, but he hadn’t actually been listening for quite a while. Letting out a heavy sigh, he slid aside the case file—which he also hadn’t been paying attention to. “Sorry about that.

Foggy let out an amused grunt. “Glad to see you’re back on planet Earth.”

It had been over a week with no word from Frank, and Matt couldn’t seem to pull his thoughts away from the other man. He missed Frank more than he would admit aloud, but it seemed that Frank didn’t miss him at all. He hadn’t returned any of the dozen texts or voicemails Matt left on his phone. It seemed that this relationship was just like all of the previous ones—pointless and painful. He tried not to dwell on the thought or let just how much it hurt show on the surface, but Foggy and Karen knew him too well to buy it. Thankfully, they also knew him well enough to let well enough alone.

“I guess I need more coffee,” Matt lied. The last thing he needed was more of his stomach lining eaten away by Karen’s coffee, but he got up and poured himself some anyway.

“No, Matt,” his partner drawled, “what you actually need is to get off your ass and go talk to Frank.”

“I called...”

“I said go ‘talk to Frank’, not ‘call Frank.’ Big difference. For someone who always seems to hear things from a mile away, you’ve really been shit at listening lately.” Foggy pried the coffee cup from Matt’s fingers and shoved his cane into his hand instead. “Look, I get that Frank shutting you out hurts like hell, but you’re not going to get over this until you face it. Maybe he’ll tell you to fuck off, but at least then you’ll know for sure. Now get the hell out of here before I drag your ass out of the office.”

Matt bit his lip. “I have work to do!”

“Let’s be honest here… any work you do today is gonna be half-assed at best.” Foggy gave Matt a slight shove towards the door.

On his way to Frank’s work, Matt tried out at least fifty different ways to explain showing up without actually telling the truth. None of them held up to even his own pathetic scrutiny. He just wished he knew what he needed to say to let Frank know that he didn’t judge him based on his supposedly _not_ -PTSD symptoms, that all he wanted to do was help. The problem with that was that Frank was so far in denial that even the hint that something might be “wrong” with him sent him running. Matt understood that accepting that you needed help or that you were different than before wasn’t easy. It had been hard to do as a kid, and Matt could see why it would be even hard to do as an adult. What he couldn’t understand was how Frank could be so understanding of everyone else’s needs and suffering but not his own. Working eyes weren’t required to see that Frank actually needed the support that Max gave him when he was “training” other dogs and maybe even needed to seek more help than just that. It didn’t make Frank weak or less-than—which Frank most certainly knew from his work with other veterans. Why couldn’t Frank just accept it? And why did he just shut down when Matt tried to help?

Before Matt could answer any of his own questions, he was standing outside of the training center. He took a long, deep breath and pushed the door open. Inside, he was greeted by the sound of Evan on the talking—probably on the phone because Matt didn’t hear anyone talking back.

“Look, I get just how much Bucky needs to get started with his dog. Please, believe me when I say I know exactly what it’s like to be in his shoes… I wish I could tell you… No, I know that it sucks that you’re still waiting… All right, all right. I promise, I will call Frank and tell him exactly that…” Evan let out a snort. “Goodbye to you, too, Steve.”

“Sounds like that was a fun call,” Matt murmured.

“You don’t know the half of it,” the younger man sighed. “I don’t suppose it’s too much to hope that Frank is hiding in your back pocket?”

“I wish.” Matt made his way to his usual spot in the unused office chair beside Evan. “I take it he’s out for the day.”

“Uh, try out for the week. He told me to clear his calendar and not to make any more appointments for him for a while. Carol, Luke, and I took on what clients we could, but we’re so far under water that it’s like bailing the fucking Titanic out with a teaspoon. Our other trainer actually quit over it. Shit’s a mess here,” Evan said flatly.

Matt’s stomach clenched. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? This has been a long time coming—a hell of a lot longer than you’ve even been in the picture. Soon or later, this time bomb was going to go off. Don’t blame yourself for being the poor, bastard holding it when it finally did.”

The phone rang again, and Evan was once again making his apologies for his boss. Rather than alleviate any of Matt’s guilt, Evan’s words merely added to it. He should have known better than to push at Frank. He should have…

“Stop it right fucking now,” Evan commanded, cutting Matt’s thoughts short. “I know that look well enough. My girlfriend had the same damn look before I pushed her out of my life. There’s nothing you can do to fix this for him, Matt, and there’s nothing you could have done differently that would changed how he feels right now. There’s just one thing you can do...”

“What’s that?” Matt asked softly.

“Don’t give up on him. Leave if you absolutely can’t take it, but if you can, stay. He may not answer your calls or talk to you right away, but just knowing you’re there will help. Knowing someone loves you even when you can’t love yourself… I can’t describe how much it means.”

Matt spent the rest of the day thinking about everything Evan had said. He’d been tempted to go back to work and shut it all out as best he could, but Matt couldn’t stop himself from replaying the conversation over and over again. A little voice in his head told him that Frank wouldn’t care one way or another if Matt stayed or not, but a larger part of him knew that wasn’t true. Frank had a hole in his heart that matched the one Matt carried in his own. Being together had been something special even if they hadn’t known each other that long. Matt couldn’t have been the only one who felt that. If Frank really, truly cared about him too, didn’t he deserve to know that Matt wasn’t running?

Just before slipping under the covers, Matt grabbed his phone from the nightstand and followed his instincts.

“Hey, Frank. It’s me...Matt. I know you aren’t answering my calls, but I just want you to know I still care about you. I’ll be here for you whatever you decide—even if you decide not to be with me. Please just know that. I guess I’ll call again soon. Bye.”

After that, leaving Frank a message just became a nightly ritual. The veteran didn’t block Matt’s number so that had to mean at least something. Right? Even if he didn’t listen to his messages, Frank had to know that Matt still cared. The funny thing about the calls was that—in a very strange way—they gave Matt hope. There was this tiny little spark in his stomach that got a bit hotter every time he heard that beep on Frank’s voicemail. It was about a week after he started calling that the spark became a flame. Matt had just finished a meeting with a client when Karen slipped into his office to relay a message from Evan; Frank had started working again. A month later, that flame became an inferno.

Matt was just finishing his left over Indian take out when his phone alerted to a new text. Wiping his hands on a napkin, he grabbed the device to listen to the message. He assumed it was just Foggy complaining about the latest slump his baseball team was in, but it wasn’t. It was from Frank.

**Thanks, Red.**

It was just two simple words, but that was enough to make Matt’s gut clench and his eyes feel a slight sting. His messages were getting through. It didn’t matter that Frank had said absolutely nothing about wanting to talk, but it was the first direct acknowledgment he’d gotten. After that, he sent a text right around Frank’s usual coffee time and still left his message before going to bed. Occasionally, he would get a reply—always less than a full sentence, but never asking him to stop. Matt had already made up his mind that he would keep going until either Frank actually spoke to him or was asked to stop. After all, he was a Murdock, and Murdocks didn’t give up very easily.

Then the attack happened.

It wasn’t as bad as the sky opening up to let in an endless stream of aliens or planes crashing into towers full of people, but it was bad enough that bleeding New Yorkers were once again on everyone’s television screens and newsfeeds. A bomb had been dropped on the courthouse steps in reaction to the recent talks over added gun laws. Thankfully, no one was killed, but dozens were injured. Unfortunately, Matt so happened to be one of them.

He’d been handing his briefcase over to security for screening when the blast shook the building. The force of it actually knocked him off of his feet and took the air from his lungs. At first, he couldn’t understand what had just happened. His head had hit the floor hard enough that gave him one hell of a concussion. The first thing he could remember clearly through all of the chaos was the voice of a security guard telling him to still. After that, time moved like a damn freight train. It seemed like minutes from the explosion to being admitted into a hospital room for observation.

Foggy and Karen were by his side the minute Matt was cleared for visitors and settled. He’d wanted to leave the hospital AMA, but he already knew that would earn him a life long spot on both his secretary and his partner’s shit lists. They both asked him a million times if he needed anything and how bad his pain was. No, he didn’t need anything. No, his pain levels weren’t intolerable. Matt was equally annoyed and grateful for their concern. By the million and second time the questions were repeated, he was on the verge of losing his temper.

“Do either of you know what happened to my briefcase and my phone?” he asked simply so he could distract them.

“They were brought up with you when they admitted you. Do you want me to get them?” Karen offered.

“Sure,” Matt said, leaning back into the pillows. The two people who would have been calling him were in the room with him, so he wasn’t expecting any messages. Then it dawned on him: he hadn’t let Frank know he was alright.

“Uh, pal, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I am pretty sure your phone is a goner,” Foggy told him.

Matt sat up straight too fast causing his head to ache. “What?”

“See for yourself.” Foggy pushed the device into Matt’s hands.

The screen beneath Matt’s fingertips was definitely shattered beyond repair. Even without trying any of the voice commands he knew it was done for. He swallowed the bit of panic in his throat, telling himself that Frank would have no way of knowing Matt had been hurt anyway. Matt could leave a message for him in the morning and all would be well.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Frank stood along the wall in the training room and watched Sasha and Barnes going through the agility course. Though agility wasn’t part of her service training, it was a fun way to keep both the dog and her new owner engaged. It didn’t surprise him in the least that the pair moved seamlessly together. They had bonded instantly in a way that Frank hadn’t seen since the day he met Max. Not only did Sasha seem to connect with her new handler, Bucky was a natural at giving consistent signals to his new partner. They had become a well oiled machine in less time than Frank had ever seen before—even including him and Max. He was about to compliment the pair when the door swung open.

Evan rolled in with Barnes’ husband, Steve, on his heels. Both men looked a bit shaken and Montana was sticking to Evan’s side like glue. All signs that they were interrupting the lesson for a damn important reason, just not one that Frank was gonna like.

“Everything okay?” Barnes asked, eyeing Steve nervously.

Steve shook his head gravely and twined his fingers through his husband’s. “Someone set off a bomb in front of the courthouse.”

The word courthouse hit Frank like a sledgehammer. “Matt...” he croaked out.

“They said on the news that there hasn’t been anyone reported dead, but that they are taking numerous people to the hospital,” Steve said. “We can’t assume that your boyfriend was one of them.”

Thinking back to his therapy sessions and his time in group with Curtis and the guys, Frank took deep breaths and counted down. Beside him, Max was nudging at his hand. The icy grip of panic hadn’t entirely let go, but Frank didn’t let it consume him. Instead, he pulled out his phone and dialed Matt’s number. It went straight to voicemail. Next, he tried the office phone—which also went to voicemail.

The next six hours were pure hell. Frank called every hospital in reasonable distance to the courthouse begging for any information he could get. Each call was met with sympathy but no answers. It was against policy to give out any information on a patient who may or may not have been admitted without approval. Frank understood that mentally, but the animal inside him didn’t. The animal wanted to scream and howl and tear the world apart until he found out where Matt was and if he was safe. Finally, Steve wrenched the phone from Frank’s hands and ordered him to go sit on the couch. It was against Frank’s nature, but he sat with Max in his lap while Steve reached out to some connections at Mercy hospital.

All Frank could think of were Matt’s voicemails and texts. He’d done everything in his power to make sure Frank knew that he wasn’t alone—not that Frank had given him so much as hint of a reason to even fucking care at all. For well over a month, he’d been listening and reading each message with the hopes that he could think of something to say in return beyond a few words. He’d failed. He’d failed Matt and now…

Max let out a whine, cutting off Frank’s train of thought. He nudged at Frank’s hand until he began petting the dog again.

“Glad to see you’re back with us,” Barnes said from where he was leaning on the counter. Coming from just about anyone else, Frank would have taken the comment as someone being shitty, but the former soldier knew just how hard it was to fight back from the darkest places in your head—or harder yet to stop yourself before you got the whole way down that fucking rabbit hole.

Frank nodded curtly. He’d just opened his mouth to speak when Steve strolled back in the room with a guarded look on his face.

“Matt is going to be fine,” Steve said firmly. Despite being barely bigger than a fucking minute, he had the kind of clear, confident voice that people naturally listened to. He would have made a hell of an officer in the military.

“Going to be?” Frank demanded.

Steve nodded and wrapped an arm around his husband’s waist. “My friend from Mercy definitely did _not_ tell me that he’s been admitted for observation for a concussion—no other concerning injuries to speak of.”

“Thank Christ,” Frank murmured. It felt like a Mack truck had been lifted off his damn chest.

Within an hour, Frank found himself standing in the lobby Mercy hospital with Max at his side. This time, he was wearing his official service dog vest rather than the training one he used to wear. The hospital staff—thankfully—didn’t give the pair so much as a side-wards glance as they made their way to through security and up to the front desk. A little boy nearly made a rush towards Max only to be waylaid by his mother who told him “the puppy is working.” It was about the best scenario for a service dog and its handler that could be hoped for—which was good being that Frank felt like he was being held together by chewing gum and a prayer.

The desk attendant looked up at him blandly. “Can I help you, sir?”

“My boyfriend was admitted for a concussion earlier. I missed his call and didn’t get a room number,” he lied. “Any chance you could help me out?”

“Let me call up and see if he is okayed for visitors. His name?”

“Matthew Murdock. And I’m Frank Castle,” he added.

Nodding, the woman picked up the phone and used it to motion to a row of chairs. “Have a seat, and I’ll call you in a minute.”

Frank’s gut was roaring that “a minute” wasn’t good enough. He wanted her to look up the fucking number and send him on his way. Instead, he gave a curt nod and took a seat. His legs bounced irritably until a heavy head was placed on his thigh. Max’s dark eyes stared up at him with affection. “Thanks, pal,” Frank murmured to the dog.

A gruff chuckle sounded beside Frank. There was an old man parked in a wheelchair at the end of the seating row. Frank hadn’t even noticed him until he’d made a noise. “Gotta problem?” he asked, roughly.

“Sure do,” the old man said. He held up a portable oxygen tank with shaking, gnarled hands. “More problems than I got time to tell ya about ‘em. I was just thinkin’ how good it is that they have dogs around like that one these days—damn shame that anyone needs them for more than general companionship, but that ain’t the point, either. I think I woulda liked one when I got home from Korea. Mighta made life a little less lonely.”

A chip the size of Gibraltar fell off of Frank’s shoulder. “Sorry I snapped.”

The old man shrugged. “You’re obviously not sitting in a waiting room for the fun of it.”

“My boyfriend was hurt in that bombing at the courthouse,” Frank said, not quite sure why he was bothering to keep talking. “How about you?”  
“For once, I’m just here visiting. My granddaughter is up there delivering my first great grandson. Her wife is up there with her, so I thought I’d sit down here and drink bad coffee and watch the talking heads on the boob-tube.”

“Mr. Castle…” An orderly in scrubs was standing in the door way.

“Congrats on the grandkid,” he said, heading for the door.

“And I hope your boyfriend gets well soon.”

Frank followed the directions from the orderly while his heart was thundering in his chest. He still had no idea what to say to Matt besides that he was sorry for fucking everything up. Apologies had never been his strong suit, but he was slowly learning that he’d have to work on making them. Stopping a few feet from Matt’s door, he took a long slow breath. Max leaned into his leg reassuringly. After a few more seconds, he was ready to go in.

Before he could knock, the door opened and Frank was standing face to face with Foggy and Karen. The tiny blonde looked like she wanted to rip his throat out and the pudgy attorney didn’t look much kinder. “I was wondering if you’d show up,” he grumbled.

Frank narrowed his eyes. “Are you going to let me in or not?”

“Give us one reason we should,” Karen demanded.

“Guys! It’s okay,” Matt’s voice called from inside. “Go get your tacos. I promise I will still be here when you get back.”

Foggy looked like he wanted to argue but didn’t. He let out a deep sigh and urged Karen out the door. The secretary gave Frank one last death glare as she pushed by him. He watched their retreating forms down the hall before he managed to step over the threshold into Matt’s room.

His breath caught the moment he got a good look Matt. Frank wasn’t entirely sure how he’d expected Matt to look, but seeing him propped up in a hospital bed with bruises and cuts lining his handsome face felt like a sucker punch. Though the image wasn’t even in the top hundred of grisliest things he’d seen, seeing the man he was in love with hurt was damned hard. Max let out a small whine as if he didn’t like seeing it either.

Matt chuckled. “You brought Max.”

“Yeah,” Frank said, swallowing the lump in his throat. “We’re an actual team these days.”

“So you finally made it official. I’m sure Max couldn’t be happier about that.”

Rolling his eyes, Frank slid into the still-warm seat Foggy had vacated. “I’m not marryin’ my damn dog, Red.”

“I’d hope not.” Matt grinned widely and then instantly winced. The smile that followed was smaller and a bit sheepish. “Foggy said that I probably felt worse than I look, but I’m guessing from your reaction that’s not entirely true.”

On closer inspection, Matt’s face wasn’t actually all that terrible. He had one hell of a shiner and his left cheekbone was swollen. There was a cut above his brow that looked like it had been shut with adhesive and a few smaller ones that would heal on their own here and there. Maybe in another setting it wouldn’t be so bad, but combined with his pale skin and the starkness of the sheets and gown, it looked on par with how Frank assumed it must feel.

“I’ve seen worse,” he said flatly. It wasn’t a lie, and it sounded better than telling Matt he looked like warmed over dog shit.

Matt snorted. “Well, that’s comforting.”

A long silence stretched out between them. It wasn’t that Frank didn’t know what he _wanted_ to say; he just couldn’t figure out how. Thankfully, Matt made the first move.

“I’m glad you’re here, Frank. Not to sound dramatic, but I’m not a fan of hospitals after… Anyway, I’m just glad you’re here,” he said, holding out his hand for Frank’s.

Frank looped his wider, rougher fingers through Matt’s. “I should have been here all along. It took me to damn long. I...” Frank’s voice broke as the damn inside of him started to swell over. “I am so fucking sorry. I should have…”

Matt pulled on Frank’s hand until the larger man was almost in the hospital bed with him. “You should have done exactly what you did—taken the time and space you needed to get your feet back under you. It took me a while to understand why you did things the way you did, and maybe I wish you would have told me that you needed time instead of just leaving, but I understand that things between us had to wait. Please don’t be sorry for taking care of yourself.”

“But if I’d...”

“If you’d have been with me the whole time, I still probably would have ended up in this bed. Nothing that you could have done would have prevented that bomb from being planted, and nothing you could have done would have stopped me from doing my job. Frank, sometimes the things that happen to the people we care about are just beyond our control.”

Matt slid over, and Frank squeezed himself along side him. The bed rail was biting into his hip bone, but he didn’t give a shit. He needed a kind of comfort that he couldn’t get from his four-legged companion. He wrapped his arm around Matt’s shoulders and reveled in the feeling of being complete again.

“I could have lost you,” he croaked.

“You didn’t,” Matt whispered as he nuzzled at Frank’s neck.

“But I could have. All I kept thinking about while we tried to find out what happened to you was what if you were gone. What if I had let you slip through my fingers without telling you how much you meant to me...” Frank let out a long, shaking breath. “It scares the shit out of me how much you mean to me. Matt Murdock, I love you so much it could tear me to fucking pieces. If you care about me even a tenth as much as that, I swear I won’t stop trying to be a better man—the man I know you deserve. My head’s a mess and half the time I smell like dog, but god damn, do I love you.”

Matt let out a low chuckle. “All of the time.”

Frank blinked. “What?”

“You smell like dog all of the time,” Matt clarified.

“I’m pouring my fucking heart out to you, and you’re telling me I smell?”

“It’s part of your charm.” The blind man traced the edge of Frank’s jaw and up to his lips. “The day you came into my office, you smelled like coffee, Old Spice aftershave, and dog. On anyone else, it would have stunk, but because it was you… Because it was you, it was just right. It’s one of the many things I love about you. And yes, Frank, I do love you.”

Unsure what to say, Frank simply kissed Matt hard on the lips. Matt winced a little when they parted, but wasn’t in enough pain to resist going in for more. The kiss said more than any words could just how much he’d missed Frank. As humbling as it all was, Frank couldn’t help being thankful that of all of the shit that had gone wrong in his life—that he’d let go wrong—that this one thing turned out right. He was about to say so when a third body suddenly landed on the bed.

Matt smiled and reached down to scratch Max’s silky ears. “Don’t worry, Max. I missed you, too. In fact, I even ordered a dog bed and bowls for my place—you know, should you ever want to bring Frank over and spend the night.”

“Max prefers to sleep in a people bed,” Frank teased.

“I draw the line at dog hair on my pillow,” Matt said, going easily into lawyer-mode. “It’s either him in bed with you or me.”

Frank laughed. “Sorry, pal. Looks like you’ve gotta sleep on the dog bed.”

The pit let out a yawn and stared up at the pair lovingly. Something in his gut told Frank that they’d be spending a lot of time curled up like this in the future. The thought warmed him the whole way through.

 


End file.
